Acceptance
by Feriku
Summary: Contains Dual Destinies spoilers. As Simon struggles to adjust to life outside of prison, his attempts to abandon the "Twisted Samurai" persona fail. Convinced even Athena cares only about the memory of the man he once was, he falls asleep in anticipation of a dark, lonely future. But instead of his usual nightmares, he finds himself face-to-face with Athena's younger self.
1. Twisted

**Acceptance**

Chapter 1: Twisted

The worst part about going out to a celebratory dinner with the members of the Wright Anything Agency was not that he was forced to endure inane conversation and Justice-dono's "Chords of Steel," as he so irritatingly dubbed the noise he made, but rather that Simon was expected, on some level, to participate.

He sat stiffly in his chair and tensed as the waitress approached. If he were at home, he could enjoy a quiet meal with only Taka for company. Taka didn't expect much in the way of conversation, and he never objected to what conversation Simon provided.

But no. Once again, he let Athena badger him into accompanying them.

At least they weren't at Eldoon's Noodles, which was either one of the few places Wright-dono could afford, or just a favorite for reasons unknown. On days when Maya Fey joined them, they went to a place with hamburgers on the menu. It meant a welcome break from Eldoon's, but it also meant Simon had to hear even more nonsensical prattle than usual.

He clenched his teeth. He wouldn't listen, so he wouldn't be tempted to interject. Last time, no one but Athena even looked at him for the rest of the meal, even though they had to know he wasn't _serious_ about cutting out Fey-dono's tongue.

Didn't they?

One by one, they all gave the waitress their orders, and when it was his turn, she cringed a little.

He glared at her. People acted like he was about to murder them before he even did anything. "Does my presence offend you in some way?"

"N-no, sir, I'd just like your order . . ."

He slammed his hand down on the table. "Then stop flinching like a little mouse! I daresay you would not last five seconds on the battlefield."

Down the table, Justice-dono muttered under his breath, "Like anyone can help flinching when he shouts like that."

Simon's scathing retort to the waitress's latest action—taking a step back so that Athena's chair was between them—caught on the tip of his tongue. As much as he hated to concede anything, even in his own mind, Justice-dono was right. Shouting at a frightened person would hardly help.

He knew that. For crying out loud, he studied psychology. Once, he would have tried to reassure her there was nothing to be afraid of.

Perhaps he wasn't even capable of that anymore.

"S-sir? May I have your order?"

"Nothing." He scowled at the table. Prison, it seemed, cost him more than just seven years of his life. "I am not hungry."

"What?"

He let out a long hiss between his teeth. "Is there a _problem_ with what I said?"

"No sir, of course not!" The waitress kept her wide-eyed stare on him for a moment longer, then turned to Trucy. "Miss?"

The magician also stared at Simon, her eyes huge.

"Miss?"

"Huh? Oh! My order!"

Simon snorted. All things considered, it was a miracle Wright-dono still allowed his daughter to sit so close to the Twisted Samurai.

The Twisted Samurai. It was more than just a nickname, and more than a façade used to keep up his pretense of guilt. It was truth.

It was him.

A soft touch on his arm startled him back to the current situation, and he pulled back. Athena's hand dropped to her lap, and he couldn't fight the smirk that appeared on his lips. "Have you yet regretted your decision to invite me, Cykes-dono?"

"Of course not," she said.

He met her gaze for a second, then looked away. He wanted to believe her. The part of him that ached for someone to smile in genuine happiness because of him, the part that couldn't bear being the Twisted Samurai any longer, needed to believe her.

The waitress finished taking their orders and left, with a final, brief glance at him. The urge to glare after her was almost irresistible, but he forced himself to keep his face very still.

"Hey! Mr. Blackquill?" Fey-dono leaned past Athena across the table toward him.

He wracked his brain for a response. Something normal. At least non-threatening. Neutral would have to do. "Yes?"

"Do they teach you that evil stare in prosecutor school?"

These infernal people never let up with their nonsense. "What evil stare?"

She grinned. "The one you're giving me right now."

His efforts to hold back his natural response were a partial success, and he just uttered a low growl.

Her smile faded, and she sat back in her seat. "What a grouch."

"Maya, leave him alone," Wright-dono said.

Yes, everyone should just leave him alone. Then he wouldn't have any opportunities to distress them further. After a few moments of silence, Trucy piped up with a story about something that happened at school, and conversation resumed.

He tuned them out again. If he heard, he would be tempted to join in, and it would be another disaster. Better to be isolated by choice than to scare everyone away.

But it hurt more to be alone in a group of laughing, happy people than to be by himself. Every day, the wall around him grew a little higher, even though he was free. It cut him off more and more, even though he was supposed to be able to mingle with people again.

_Why am I like this?_ He tensed as the waitress returned with their orders, but he couldn't ignore the wide berth she gave his seat. Sniveling wretch. He hated her and everyone else—but most of all, himself. _Why can't I act the way I used to?_

The Simon Blackquill of seven years past was just a distant memory. The kind, gentle prosecutor was more a stranger than a part of him.

"Simon?" Athena's hand was on him again.

He didn't pull away, even though the comfort was likely for the memory than the reality. No one comforted the Twisted Samurai.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

That startled a laugh out of him, and he slapped his hand against the table. "Why yes, I'm _wonderful_ . . . for a sick freak who can't go two seconds without terrifying someone!"

She put her hand over her mouth. "Simon . . ."

Enough. Pity was the last thing he needed. He stood. "I'm finished." He turned and strode away from the table without a backward glance.

Footsteps pounded after him and he quickened his pace, but Athena caught him at the restaurant doors.

He ignored her and stepped outside. The sun was low on the horizon.

She followed him out. "Simon?"

"What?" He folded his arms and gave her a flat look. "Keep it brief. I would like to return home before nightfall."

She cast her gaze down. "Please don't go."

"I assure you, it will be a much more pleasant meal without me."

"No it won't." She looked up at him, eyes wide and watery. "Please, I want you to come back."

Harsh laughter escaped him at the absurd thought that she was almost in tears because he wished to leave. "There is no need to pretend for my sake, Cykes-dono."

"I'm not pretending."

"Then you are a fool," he said.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"To desire _my_ company, when all I do is ruin things, to insist I attend these ludicrous affairs—"

"You could at least try, you know!" Athena's voice rose to a shout and Widget blazed bright red. "Maybe if you didn't assume you were going to have a bad time, you'd actually enjoy yourself!"

"Have you ever tried to _enjoy yourself_ when everyone trembles at the very sight of you?"

"They wouldn't do that if you didn't act so, so—"

Turmoil swept his emotions into a chaotic mess. Part of him wanted her to just say it and get it over with. Another part couldn't bear the thought of losing even her support.

The first part won.

"If I didn't act so _what_?"

"So hostile!"

"Hostile?" He narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you think I can just flip a switch and act like a normal person, is that it?"

Her lip trembled. "Just loosen up a little. You don't have to be like this."

Something inside of him broke, and he started down the sidewalk. "Return to your friends."

"Simon, please listen—"

"No!" He whirled around and glared at her. "I don't have to be like this? This _is_ me now, whether you care to accept it or not!"

Before she could respond, he turned and set off at a fast enough pace to discourage any pursuit. If he had to be alone, so be it.

#

By the time he reached his apartment, there was already a message from Athena on his telephone. Almost against his will, he picked up the receiver to hear it.

"_Hi, Simon, this is Athena. I didn't mean anything by what I said. Please call me back so I can explain._"

He snorted and hung up the phone.

It rang immediately. Caller ID displayed Athena's cell phone number.

He let it ring.

_You don't have to be like this._

So, even she disliked what he'd become. She thought the old Blackquill was hidden beneath the Twisted Samurai act. That was what she wanted to see.

He snorted and paced in front of the phone. He couldn't even fool himself with useless platitudes about being true to himself. If it were possible, he would put on the guise of his younger self and interact with people like he once did.

But he couldn't.

When the ringing stopped, he glanced at the display. Another message.

"_This is Athena again. I care about you, Simon. Please call me._"

Panic edged her tone. It sent a burst of guilt through him. He wanted to make things easier for her, not scare her for any reason. He took a breath to compose himself and gather his thoughts, and then dialed her number.

She answered on the first ring. "Simon!"

"We have nothing to discuss," he said.

"Yes we do."

"Silence." He took another breath. "I have changed, and that's all there is to it. I can't be the way I was before."

"I don't care," she said. "Do you really think that's what this is about?"

"Of course it is. You devoted your life to saving a man you lost seven years ago, Cykes-dono. That man is gone. The Twisted Samurai is all that remains. I am no longer the man you want me to be, and I cannot become him again."

He hung up and put his head in his hands. It hurt, but it was the truth. The truth was the most important thing.

The phone rang. The display lit up with Athena's number.

He hesitated. One way to put an absolute end to this nonsense would be to answer it and threaten to cut her down with his blade if she disturbed him once more, but he couldn't bear the thought of deliberately threatening her. And if it worked, he would never know if she just accepted his decision, or if she was actually afraid of him.

Instead, he let it ring and walked to the bathroom, where he looked into the mirror.

A ghastly image glared back. He hadn't taken a good look at his reflection in a long time, and he rather wished he'd left it that way. No wonder people were afraid the moment they saw him. His hair, though better kept than when he was in prison, was still a wild mane, and the white patch in his bangs gave him a disturbing, unnatural appearance. Narrowed eyes were all the more threatening thanks to the dark streaks beneath them, which shadowed his eyes in a way that did nothing to help his gaunt, unhealthy look. His mouth was set in a thin, hard line.

In short, he looked like he wanted to murder someone.

He clenched his fists. Change was possible, even after seven painful years. He was free, after all. He had every reason to be happy. He stared at his reflection and attempted a smile.

The Twisted Samurai's lips twitched into a cold smirk.

He slammed his fist against the sink and returned to the silent phone. Athena had left another message. He reached toward the receiver, then pulled his hand back. Hearing what she had to say would just make everything that much harder. He needed to make a clean break. After a few days, she'd realize she was much happier without him. Everyone would be.

As for him? Taka wouldn't abandon him, and he could visit Aura in prison. Two friends were better than none.

The ache inside of him grew as he got ready for another sleepless bout of nightmares, and by the time he climbed into bed, it was agony. He almost missed prison. There, he knew where he stood, his future was set, and the persona he adopted was yet another form of protection for Athena. None of it could be questioned.

Freedom brought the terrifying burden of wanting things he couldn't have.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his pillow. The darkness of night made honesty possible. He wanted to laugh and talk with the others at dinner. He wanted people to smile at him. He wanted . . . friends. Though the decision he'd made was necessary, he didn't want to be alone forever.

He didn't want to be the Twisted Samurai.


	2. Loved

Chapter 2: Loved

Simon walked through the halls of the Cosmos Space Center. He had no business being there. Aura was in prison, and his mentor was dead. Nothing tied him to that place anymore. But he didn't question it. He knew why he was there.

It was a dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

Too often, nighttime returned him to the terrible day of Metis's death. Often enough for him to recognize the signs. Some psychologists felt lucid dreaming could help one deal with nightmares, but it mattered not when the nightmares were based on true events.

His footsteps echoed down the hall. He could turn back, or pass by the lab. But every time, he went inside.

He stopped at the door to the robotics lab and took a deep breath. Maybe it was just another sign of how twisted he was, a sick desire to relive the day his old life ended. He opened the door, stepped into the room—and froze.

Metis wasn't there. No bloodstained Athena waited to greet him. Instead, the little red-haired girl sat on the far side of the room, surrounded by paper and crayons.

Simon's breath caught. So it wasn't his nightmare . . . or at least, not his usual nightmare. He stood stiff, paralyzed with horror. He was not his younger self. Hair tickled the back of his neck as it ran down his back in a thick ponytail. A bitter smirk twisted his lips at the irony. What memory of the past could be worse than to have young Athena see what he became?

She looked up. "Simon?"

His heart hammered, and he spun around. No, he wouldn't let it happen. She would _not_ see the ghoul from the mirror.

The door wouldn't open. Footsteps pounded behind him, and he scrabbled at it, in a panic.

Tiny arms twined around his waist. "Simon!"

She sounded so happy to see him. If only she knew. Tears prickled his eyes even as he let out a bitter snort. So it wasn't enough for him to lose the real Athena. His subconscious demanded even her younger self reject him.

He continued to stare at the door. As long as she didn't see his face, there was still a way out. "Excuse me, Athena." He kept his voice as low and quiet as possible, although his chest constricted as he imagined how much of the Twisted Samurai her sensitive ears might pick up on. "I have to leave."

Even as he reached for the door again, she tightened her grip. "What's wrong?"

The anguish in her voice was enough to revive his guilt, just as it had with her older self on the phone. He couldn't leave her when she sounded like that.

"Nothing's wrong," he said.

"But your heart . . . it's crying out in pain!"

He stiffened. "It's nothing."

Far from console her, his words seemed to make things worse. "You're always there for me when I'm sad." She sniffed. "W-why can't I help you?"

_You'll only make it worse if you try._ The words wouldn't come out. They would hurt her too much. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was better to just get it over with. See the fear in her eyes, let her run from the monster he'd become, and then he could awaken from the nightmare.

He turned, and her arms fell away from him so he could face her. He braced himself.

Athena's wide, blue eyes stared up at him. There—a glimmer of fear, it had to be. He couldn't breathe. She needed to say something, run, scream, do anything but just stand there. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but he grew tenser and tenser until he felt he was going to explode.

"Say something! Don't just gawk!" The thunderous roar burst from his throat before he could stop it, and when he realized what he'd done, he sagged against the wall.

_Is this the proof you needed that it's _you_? You could look exactly as you did back then, and it wouldn't change the way you act._

Athena touched his arm. "Simon? Please tell me what it is." She hesitated. "Your heart . . . the pain . . . maybe Mommy can help you!"

"No!" He snapped out of his stupor and caught her before she could leave. To face Metis as the Twisted Samurai was more than he could bear.

She started to cry.

"Athena . . ." He crouched—_what can you do, you freak, you don't know how to comfort people anymore_—and put his arms around her. It felt stiff and awkward, but she welcomed the terrible hug and sobbed against his chest. "P-please don't cry," he said. "Not because of me. I—I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"I don't know what to do to help you."

Against his better judgment, he smirked. Comfort was beyond him, but psychological manipulation was well within his grasp. "I'll feel better if you stop crying."

Her sobs slowed, and she pulled her head back. A large damp spot remained behind on his shirt, and she sniffled. "I got you all wet. I'm sorry."

He cackled. "Oh, I shall find a way to obtain payment, I assure you."

_Stop it. Just stop._

But she didn't react at all to his implied threat. She smiled. "You sound better."

"I do?"

She slumped. "Now you don't."

"If you were wearing your headphones," he said, as he noticed their absence, "you wouldn't be having so much trouble."

"They made my head hurt." She smiled. "Besides, I never need them when I'm with you. The voice of your heart is so gentle and soothing."

Not anymore. He lowered his gaze. "I should leave."

Her lower lip trembled. "I hear it again. What's wrong?"

The anxiety and confusion and annoyance returned. She should just show her fear and get it over with. He let out a long breath to avoid another explosion. "I've changed. Can't you see that?"

"Huh?"

He stared at her and waited for her to finally behave like the others did.

She giggled.

He narrowed his eyes. "Is something funny?"

"You have changed. Your hair is longer." A shy expression came across her face. "Can I give you braids?"

"No."

"Please? I gave my doll braids the other day—"

"Attempt to braid my hair and you will find yourself with fewer fingers."

"Can I show you the picture I drew, then?"

The question came just as he berated himself for what he'd said, and it took him a moment to realize her exclamation wasn't one of fear, but rather excitement. She grabbed his hand and tugged him away from the door.

As he was still on his knees, it didn't work, so he stood up and followed her. He stared down at her small hand clasped in his. It was . . . impossible for her to still like him.

Wasn't it?

She led him to the spot she'd been in when he entered, and picked up a crayon drawing. "What do you think?"

Time stilled. He took the drawing and stared at it. A knight fought a vicious dragon while a princess waited, trapped in a tower. It was a standard enough image, inspired by a fairy tale, but a lump formed in his throat as he looked at the red-haired princess and the black-clad knight.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"I love it," he said, and it was the truth. He just wished he could still be her knight.

"I know you'll always protect me, Simon."

"I will." No matter what the cost to himself. A slight smile formed on his lips. "But you know, someday you may have to be my knight."

"Huh?" She put her hand over her mouth. "Does that mean you'll be my damsel in distress?"

He snorted. "There are few who would dare call me a damsel . . ."

She giggled. "Is that why you grew your hair long? To be a damsel?"

"_Silence_. Call me a damsel one more time—"

"Simon Blackquill the lovely damsel!"

Aware he was almost out of control, Simon clamped his mouth shut and returned his attention to Athena's drawing to avoid meeting her gaze. But the knight and princess only reminded him of her innocent misconceptions about him, so he looked at the dragon instead.

It was white and pink, with two purple horns.

He roared with laughter. "I daresay Aura will have your head if she ever sees this!"

"Oh no, please don't show her."

He laughed harder and slapped his hand against the wall.

"It's not that funny," Athena said, but she laughed a little, too. "You can keep it, if you want."

He folded up the picture and slipped it into his coat pocket. At last, he felt brave enough to apologize for the bits of the Twisted Samurai that slipped through during their conversation. "Athena, thank you. I must beg your forgiveness if I have frightened you in any way tonight."

"Frightened me? What do you mean?"

"There is no need to pretend." He folded his hands. "I have accepted the truth about myself, and I would never harm you."

"I know _that_, I—" The rest of her words were lost in a huge yawn.

He glanced at the clock and snickered. "It seems your desire for conversation was no more than a trick to remain awake past your bedtime."

"Nuh-uh, it—" She yawned again.

"Off to bed with you, Athena. I need to be leaving anyway."

She blinked and reached toward him with a sleepy smile. "Will you carry me?"

He reeled backward. Seven years ago, he'd occasionally carried little Athena to her room in the evening, but he wasn't that man anymore. He hesitated, but the hopeful look on her face was too much. He crouched and lifted her into his arms with great care, hesitant, afraid he was so far from what he once was he might break her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.

Tears once again threatened him as he carried her out of the robotics lab. It was just a dream, but he wanted to remain there, in a place where a little girl trusted even his new self. Why? Why didn't she behave the way everyone else did?

When they reached her room, he did his best not to wake her as he tucked her in, but her eyes opened.

He swallowed hard. "Athena . . . may I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You must swear to answer with complete honesty."

She sat up and gave him a serious nod. "Just like I'm a witness in court."

"Hmph. Most of my witnesses are blatant liars."

"I'd never lie to you."

". . . Very well." He took a deep breath. "Are you afraid of me?"

Her jaw dropped. "What? No!"

"Why not?"

"Why would I be?"

He paced back and forth in front of her bed. "I look different, I sound different, but worst of all, I can't keep myself from saying horrible things. I've said things tonight I would have never said before. Didn't they frighten you?"

Athena's innocent gaze fixed him in place. "How could I ever be scared of you when the voice of your heart is so kind?"

"It is?"

"Yes."

His mouth was dry. "I know it used to sound that way, but tonight—"

"It sounds the same."

He blinked several times so she wouldn't see him cry. "Thank you, Athena."

"Will you come by again tomorrow?"

"Of course."

She smiled. "Good night, Simon."

"Good night."

#

Simon woke up with a smile on his face, but reality crashed in upon him and he punched the side of his bed. A stupid dream was no reason to be happy. Nothing had changed. Even if his subconscious mind wanted to believe otherwise, he was still the Twisted Samurai, and no one would ever accept and love him the way little Athena had in his dream.

He got dressed, though he hardly knew why. It was Saturday, and he had the day off. The first day of his self-imposed exile. Perhaps he should go to the office to get work done anyway. He paced through the house, restless, and opened all the windows. He needed Taka's company, but the hawk was nowhere in sight.

As he passed by the telephone, he stopped. Athena had indeed left another message the night before. He picked up the receiver.

"_This is Athena. Simon, I really want to spend time with you. I know you've convinced yourself I only care about my memories of you, but you're wrong. It's _you_ I care about. If you don't want to talk tonight, can we at least talk tomorrow? I'll be at Eldoon's at eleven. Please come._"

He hung up and stared at the phone for a long time. If he went to Eldoon's, it would be the same as it always was. He'd scare the staff. The other patrons would cringe when he looked at them. No one would sit near his table. Athena would put on a happy face until he made one dark joke too many, and then even she would give him an uneasy, disappointed, you-don't-have-to-be-like-this frown.

She only thought she cared about him. She didn't understand. It was hopeless. _He_ was hopeless.

Utterly hopeless.

He sighed. Time to close the windows and go in to work. At least in his office, he could block out thoughts of how alone he was.

Once he was ready to go, he picked up his coat, but paused. Something stuck out of the pocket. He pulled the piece of paper free and unfolded it.

The crayon drawing showed a knight in black fighting a dragon to save a little red-headed princess.

The world spun around Simon. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. None of it . . .

He set the paper on the counter, threw on his coat, and raced out the door.

When Athena arrived at Eldoon's, he'd be there to greet her.


End file.
